~~KNOX-~
When something good finally finds its way into your life, especially after a long time without, it’s hard not to live in constant fear of losing it.
I’ve never been this afraid in my life. Not when I took my first punch in the ring, not when I got captured overseas, not even when I watched the love of my life held at gunpoint.
This is worse. Loving her is worse.
Because love comes with fear. With want. With the obsessive need to know she’s okay at all times. I get these gut punches of panic when she’s not in my line of sight. I wake up in the middle of the night and reach out for her body on instinct. If she’s not there–if she’s even just in the bathroom with the door closed–I have to physically see her come out before I can lie back down.
I have to check that she’s still breathing three times a night. I have to hear it. See the slow rise and fall of her back. Press a hand to her chest if I have to.
And yeah, I know what that makes me. Clingy. Paranoid. A little unhinged. So I told my therapist about it. The one Sloane hired for me and practically blackmailed me into seeing. I told him everything. The nightmares. The guilt. The fear. And when he asked me what I thought would make me feel secure enough to breathe again, to really breathe, I gave him the only honest answer I had,
“I want to marry her,” I said. “I want her to be mine in every way possible. Legally, Emotionally. Spiritually. I want to write her name into every part of my life. I want a family.”
That was a month ago.
And every day since, I’ve been staring at this ring, this perfect sparkly thing I picked out myself like some lovesick puppy, and wondering how the hell to give it to her.
Do I write a speech? Plan a grand gesture? Take her on a helicopter ride, maybe? Public proposal? Private?
Would she say yes?
Every time the answer didn’t come, I shoved the ring back into its box and hid it again. Then picked it up the next day and repeated the cycle like a lunatic.
Until two days ago.
We’d just finished a morning run. She had that flushed look on her cheeks from the wind and exercise, her hair damp at the edges, and we were walking past some wedding boutique downtown. I wouldn’t have noticed it, except she slowed, and her eyes landed on one of the dresses in the display.
And she just… stared.
Not long. Not obvious. Just enough for me to notice.,
And I decided I was being ridiculous.
This is Sloane. My Sloane. My bunny. Why the hell would she say no?
So now here we are.
I’m standing on the edge of the East River, back still aching from the tattoo that’s healing under my shirt, with one hand holding her birth control pills and the other holding an open velvet box/
She’s got both hands covering her mouth. Her eyes are wide. Wet. She looks like she’s either about to cry or about to bolt. I can’t tell which-
“Oh, my god,” she says softly. “Oh, my god, Knox. Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
And before I can stop myself, the rest comes spilling out.
“You don’t need to give me an answer straightaway,” I add quickly. “I really don’t care what you say or choose today, Sloane. I just need you to know how I feel about you. How much I want matching surnames and all the other legal bullshit that comes with that certificate. I want us to be legal. Probably the most legal thing I’ll ever have. I want to be able to walk into a room and announce you as my wife. I want to write you into everything I own. That cute smile of yours-” My voice breaks for a second. “It’d be nice to have duplicate copies. Tiny Sloanes running around. Maybe not ten. Just enough to keep you entertained when I’m out of the country or something.” I shake my head, feeling like I’ve said too much. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
She sniffles and brushes tears from her face. “No. No, you’re not, Knox.”
I can’t stop now, anyway. Moving closer, I say, “The truth is, I want to make you as happy as you
make
me,
Sloane.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, then closes it again. Then opens it a second time. A slow smile forms.
“Are you really going to throw a diamond ring into the river if I say no?” she asks.
I raise a brow. “Want me to show you? I’ll toss it right now. But then I’ll buy another one in a month and try again. If your answer’s still no, I’ll try again the next month. And the next. Until you say yes.”
I’m close enough to touch her now. I can see the tears still clinging to her lashes, the way her chest rises and falls with
every
breath.
“That’s really romantic, Knox,” she says.
“It is?”
“Very sweet.”
Then, without taking her eyes off me, she snatches the pills out of my hand and flings them behind her.
